


The Stag

by AFireInTheAttic



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Not Shippy, Post-Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFireInTheAttic/pseuds/AFireInTheAttic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haymitch follows her and watches her carefully pull the arrow out of the deer to wipe it on the snow. "No, you don't do much that surprises me, these days."</p>
<p>"You've never surprised me," she lies.</p>
<p>"Since it's Christmas, I won't call you on that," he says.</p>
<p>"Since it's Christmas," she mimics, "You can carry this home."</p>
<p>"How does that follow?"</p>
<p>"I got this for you, Haymitch," she says sweetly. "Merry Christmas."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OceanFae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanFae/gifts).



> Oceanfae asked you: Christmas prompt! Haymitch and Katniss celebrate the holidays in the woods and they exchange gifts! Post War AU Where Peeta is still crazy and lives in D 13.

Katniss often forgets that Haymitch can move just as quietly as she can, but that's probably his own fault for being drunk all the time. Stumbling about doesn't usually make a person all that stealthy.

So she's reasonably surprised when Haymitch appears behind her in the woods.

"You gonna shoot anything, or just stare at it?"

She jumps and whirls, arrow notched and pointed right at his chest. She never really got over the jumpiness from the arena or even from the siege on the Capital.

Haymitch looks unimpressed. It would be worse if he didn't understand where she was coming from

She drops her weapon and turns away from him. "I might."

"Hmm," he says, and shoves his hands into his pockets. "It's cold as balls out here.  _Why_ are you out here if you aren't going to shoot anything?"

"Why are  _you_ out here?" she snaps right back.

He shrugs. "It's Christmas. Thought you might be lonely."

She is. 

But.

That's not the point. 

"It's a holiday and you're sober?" she mumbles disbelievingly.

He slaps the back of her head and as she ducks forward she can't help but snort in amusement. "Yeah, laugh it up," he says, scowling. "Here I am trying to be nice and you're being... _you_."

"You're such a basket of roses," she says, shaking her head. "Do you really have room to talk?"

"Obviously," he shoots back, rolling his eyes. 

"Well, if you shut up, I'll catch you dinner."

"By all means," he says sarcastically, and waves a hand in front of him.

"And crouch," she suggests, and then does so herself. 

They grow quiet, then, until she can only hear their own breathing. The lake was frozen when she walked out to it yesterday, but she figures with the snow on the ground, game won't be hard to find. 

In the periphery of her vision, she sees a flicker of movement. When she shifts on her haunches, she grins at the buck. It's what her day would call an 8-point. It’s still young enough that it won’t be too tough, but has all the prestige of a trophy animal, were she into that sort of thing. She’d seen halls of antlers in the Capital. Mostly, it had been weird. Killing 10-point bucks was a waste of time—the meat’s too tough.

She nudges Haymitch and tilts her head toward it. 

They watch the deer move slowly across the path until he's in range.

Katniss breathes in and lifts her bow. The buck steps out from behind a tree, and she lets an arrow fly, right into his eye.

"Nice to know you haven't lost your aim," Haymitch says wryly as the deer falls. 

"You're not surprised," she says, shrugging, and then hurries over to the deer. 

Haymitch follows her and watches her carefully pull the arrow out to wipe it on the snow. "No, you don't do much that surprises me, these days."

"You've never surprised me," she lies.

"Since it's Christmas, I won't call you on that," he says. 

"Since it's Christmas," she mimics, "You can carry this home."

"How does that follow?"

"I got this for  _you_ , Haymitch," she says sweetly. "Merry Christmas."

"What is this?" he says, gesturing to her and the deer. "Some kind of weird werewolf mating ritual? Shouldn't you be leaving it on my porch?"

"Ha, ha," she says drily. "Like anyone would want to mate with  _you_."

"You'd be surprised."

"I already said nothing about you is surprising," she says, rolling her eyes. "Are you gonna help me with this, or what?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says, rolling his eyes.

Between the two of them, they carry the buck back to the fence, the carcass slung over their shoulders.

"I haven't worked this hard since Peeta was training us," Haymitch complains as they shove the deer through the fence.

Katniss grunts. "Some of us work for a living."

"Sure you do," he says sarcastically. "There's no victor stipend in your name."

"I don't spend it on liquor."

"How does that have  _anything_  to do with this?"

"I just like to remind you that  _I'm_  the balanced one."

"Right," he drawls. " _You're_ balanced." He squirms through the fence after the deer and starts to pick it up again. "And don't think that just 'cause you're helping me carry this that I'm going to share my Christmas present with you."

"So you're going to clean it yourself?" she teases as she slips through the fence and bends to help him. "And I notice you didn't get  _me_ a gift."

"Sure I did," he says. He takes the scarf around his neck and loops it around hers. "Merry Christmas." It smells like alcohol and grime.

Katniss grimaces. "You're terrible at giving gifts."

"You're terrible at accepting them," he says smugly.

She hip checks him and adjusts her hold on the deer. "Whatever. Come on, old man. We have deer to clean."

 


End file.
